Siege of Paradise
by T.j.98
Summary: Romulus Thread did not become a decorated Headpeacekeeper over night. Even he had to start from the rank and file. But when an external force threatens the forth District, Romulus Thread will have to fight alongside his fellow Peacekeepers in a war only two districts will ever find out about.


It is still dark outside, the edge of the horizon is a pinkish orange. Through a frosted window sill I can see that winter is in full swing. Though the windows are closed, the wind outside whistles a somber tune. White puffy sheets blanket everything exposed to the outside. Evergreen trees nestle against the cold, leaves that turned brown and yellow last fall will be blown away. Time marches onward, it is the one thing that the cold can't freeze.

Inside my home, a two story cabin-esque structure, the biome of the building is in contrast with the outside environment. I sat in chair carved of pinewood and padded with deerskin, some feet in front of me was a fireplace. Inside of it the delicate orange flames licked and coiled the logs and coal while puffs of smoke wafted up the cobblestone chimney.

It is a drowsy day, the buttered bread and boiled eggs that were my breakfast did not wake me up. Nor has the chestnut mug of mocha that my left hand is clasped around while resting on the padded arm of the chair. My eyes follow every flicker of the flames, I try hard to keep them open.

I am not a young man anymore, I had more time behind me that I'll have ahead. Soon my bloodline will end, if not for devotion to the Peacekeepers army than from a lifelong sterility. Once I'm gone, all that will be left will be my legacy. Even that will be overshadowed into oblivion no matter how many people read my memoirs. Of all the treasures I've obtained throughout the years, the most valuable are my memories. Age has not brought on the disease of Alzheimer, and the memoirs I've written down ensure they will outlive me. I've had a good life, if I hadn't then these memories would be burdens instead of the treasures they are. During the other three seasons, I would sit on my front porch and tell stories of my past to neighborhood children. They can't come here in the winter, but that doesn't mean I'm necessarily alone.

In comes running my beloved niece, wearing her career training outfit.

"Uncle Thread!"

I push myself out of the chair and face her, just as she jumps into my arms. I hug her while placing her back on the ground. My back hurts, and I try to push myself into an upright posture with my left hand. I still smile, if weakly.

"Clove, you know I'm too old to spin you in the air."

"O uncle Thread, your not old."

"I'm 89 years old."

"Correction, you're 89 years _young_."

The thought of me being young causes me to chuckle, then all-out laugh. I'm laughing so much I fall back onto the chair, tears forming around my eyes. After slapping my knee and wiping away the tears, I breath in and regain myself.

"Uncle, It wasn't that funny."

"Yes it was. Now I'm going to get you a chair and some blankets. There's a pot of mocha in the kitchen, get yourself some while I get you something to sit on."

While I go to get the chair and quilts, I hear Cloves voice from the kitchen. "I don't like coffee." While lifting the chair so it's supported by my shoulders, I call out response to her. "Nonsense, just put some sweetened cream on top." I joking add, "and that's an order."

I place the dusty chair on the wooden floor in front of the fireplace, next to mine. I swipe most of the dust off of it, and Clove sits down, a redwood mug of mocha in her hands with sweetened cream atop the brown liquid. I then whip the two quilts a little to get the dust off of them, and hand her one. We both watch the fire for a few minutes, bundled against the cold within our quilts. The I decide to talk to my niece.

"So tell me, how's training coming along? Winning is still your dream, isn't it?"

Clove first looks suddenly sad, and a pang of sorrow hurts my chest, but then returns to her cheerful mood. "Yes, and it's going well. But I came to talk about you, tell me about yourself."

A smile spreads across my face and I let out a soft chuckle. "Okay, I'll tell you a story about my life. But I'm sure you've heard them all by now."

Clove smiles, "Not all of them."

"I was a commander in the Yukon expedition, I was Legionary Headpeacekeeper the Hudson war, I was Headpeacekeeper of District 5 then District 12, I was a Legionary Headpeacekeepe who helped to crush the Mockingjays uprising, and I lead an army to fend off the assault that the Gran-Colombian Viceroy launched against Patagonian Panem. I earned the Medal of Valor, the Wounded Heart, the Medal of the Capitols Defenders, and the Badge of Colonial Security Extender. I was shot, fever struck, mosquito bit, frost bit, and burned several times. I told you the story behind all of these things several times, and I never tire of retelling you these stories."

Clove pleaded, "What about before you became a commander. I mean, you had to have been a regular Peacekeeper at one point."

I grinned, "Well, there is my first adventure, but you probably don't want to hear that."

Clove lit up like a candle. "Please tell me the story. Please, please, please!"

"Okay, I'll tell you the story of my service in the Carib wars. But get comfortable, it's going to be a long one."

"O boy!"

"Once upon a time," This is how I always start stories I tell Clove, even if they are real life. "During the year of the 32nd Hunger Games, I had just graduated from the District 2 Peacekeepers Academy in the Acropolis, or what the traitors called the Nut. I was assigned tO keep the Peace in District 4, and had no idea what this would mean ..."


End file.
